


pride

by owlinaminor



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Birthday, Established Relationship, M/M, Sappy, Some crying, but it's happy crying, daichi cries no less than three times
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-01
Updated: 2016-01-01
Packaged: 2018-05-10 20:21:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5599525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/owlinaminor/pseuds/owlinaminor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daichi knows that Hinata accidentally called him ‘Dad’ once, and Suga often teases him about parenting the first-years, but this is just ridiculous.</p><p>“I’m not your dad, I’m your captain!” Daichi protests.</p><p>The cheering only increases in volume.  They’re probably disturbing anyone who’s still at the school – but then, it’s New Year’s Eve.  Nobody is still at the school besides Daichi’s insane, ridiculous, wonderful team.</p><p>“Okay, fine,” he says at last, raising his hands in surrender.  “I’m proud to be your dad.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	pride

**Author's Note:**

> it's still december 31st in my time zone, so happy birthday to my real actual father, whom i love and admire more than life itself: sawamura daichi.
> 
> before you read the fic, here's an out of context comment that [becky](http://dicaeopolis.tumblr.com/) left on the google doc while beta-ing: "get me inside this action. how do you feel when someone grabs your ass. express that emotion. express it. the emotion of ass-grab"

Sawamura Daichi has never placed much importance on his birthday.

To be honest, he doesn’t really see the point.  There’s nothing particularly special about getting another year older – he already feels like he’s going gray from dealing with the antics of his kouhais day after day.  Suga jokes that he’s a cranky grandfather at the ripe old age of seventeen – or, well, eighteen now.  One year older is just one year closer to his true age, Daichi thinks to himself with a chuckle as he slings his backpack over his shoulder.

Besides, Daichi would rather spend time celebrating _truly_ important things – like New Year’s Eve, the actual holiday that happens today.  For his birthday, he’d be happy with two practices where nobody gets hit in the face or accidentally locked in the closet, and then maybe eating a nice dinner with his family, or watching a movie with Suga.  He doesn’t need anything special.

So, the morning of his eighteenth birthday, Daichi trudges downstairs yawning, same as usual.  He makes himself rice and fried fish, same as usual.  He slips out the door on the way to practice precisely two minutes later than he intended to, same as usual.

Suga is waiting for him at the place where their paths cross, a thermos of tea in one hand.  Daichi pauses for a moment, studies the way the rising sun reflects on Suga’s hair and illuminates his face in a soft golden glow.  Suga glances up, catches sight of him, and grins – and Daichi’s chest lurches, just as it always does.

“Hi,” he says, crossing the distance between them in a couple of easy strides.

“Good morning,” Suga replies.  He starts to walk, and Daichi falls into step beside him.  Their hands find each other easily, as inevitable as gravity.  “Happy birthday.”

“Oh!  Thanks.”  Daichi runs his unoccupied hand through his hair.  He scans his memory, trying to recall if he’d mentioned recently that his birthday was coming up and comes up blank.

“Of course I remember, you dummy,” Suga chides him, bumping their shoulders together.

Daichi shrugs.  “I guess.”  For a moment, the two of them walk in silence.  Somewhere in the distance, a train rattles by.  Then, struck by a sudden realization, Daichi asks, “You didn’t tell the team, did you?”

“I didn’t.”  Suga swings their joined hands, up and back, up and back, like a steady volley.

“Thank you,” Daichi says.  “You know I don’t want to make a big deal –”

“I know.  You’re the captain, you’re not allowed to have fun, everything has to be about the _team_.”

“Yes, exactly.”  It occurs to Daichi that his boyfriend might be making fun of him.  “Wait, I –”

“I know,” Suga interrupts him again, more kindly this time.  “You’re selfless and ridiculous.”

“And you love me for it,” Daichi adds.

Suga laughs – the sound echoes in the quiet road, like the early-morning sun spreading its rays over the horizons.  Daichi watches him – wonders, as he does more and more every day, what he might’ve done in a past life to deserve someone as radiant as Sugawara Koushi.

“Hey,” Daichi says.

Suga looks at him, still smiling – Daichi’s heart does somersaults.  “Yeah?”

“Come over for dinner after practice.”

“Do you really have to ask?”  Suga lifts their joined hands up to his mouth, presses a kiss to Daichi’s knuckles.

And he doesn’t really have to ask.  He knows.  With Suga, he always knows.

* * *

Daichi approaches the third-years’ lunch table and the conversation screeches to a halt.

He surveys the scene: two desks pushed together, bentos and snacks and bottles scattered on top, Suga, Asahi, and Kiyoko all turned to look at him.  Suga quickly takes a bite of his onigiri and widens his eyes – the picture of innocence.

“What’s going on?” Daichi asks.  He pulls up a chair between Suga and Kiyoko, sits, then links his leg with Suga’s beneath the table.  “You guys were talking about something.  I can tell.”

Asahi looks at Suga.  Suga looks at Asahi.  Both of them turn and stare pleadingly at Kiyoko.  Daichi takes out his lunch and bites into a piece of milk bread, waiting for an explanation from someone.

“We were gossipping about the first-years,” Kiyoko says.

Ah.  That explains the guilty expressions.

Daichi does his best Disappointed Dad Sigh – perfected after years of use, mostly on Asahi.  “You really shouldn’t meddle in their lives, you know.”

“But Daichi!” Suga protests.  “They’re so tiny and helpless.  They need the guidance of their wise senpais.  I don’t think HInata even knows what sex is!”

Daichi shakes his head.  “Oh, Hinata _definitely_ knows what sex is.”

“What?!” Asahi practically squeaks.  His face goes the color of Nekoma’s uniform.

Suga leans forward, brown eyes shining.  “Really?  How do you know?”

“Don’t pry, Koushi,” Kiyoko says.  “What Daichi knows is his own business.  However.”  She takes a bite of udon, miraculously managing to not spill a single drop on the table in the process.  “If he would be willing to volunteer the information, it might be fascinating to learn.  Did you walk in on him and Kageyama committing explicit acts in the locker room, captain?”

This time, Daichi is the one to go red.

Luckily, he’s saved from stringing together a coherent answer to Kiyoko’s question by a new voice calling from behind him.

“Sawamura!”

Daichi turns to find Yui peering through the doorway of the classroom, grinning at him.

“Hey!” he exclaims, waving her over.  He hopes the relief isn’t _too_ plain in his face.  (Judging by the look Suga is giving him, it probably is.)

Yui approaches the table, her hands clasped behind her back.  “Happy birthday,” she says, smiling shyly.

Daichi whips around to glare at Suga.  Suga shrugs, lifting his hands palm-up – his innocence is believable this time.

“Come on, we’ve been friends for years,” Yui gently reprimands the other captain.  “Of course I remember.  And I, um, wanted to give you something.”

She brings out her hands from behind her back, revealing a small package wrapped in brown paper.  “I’m sorry it’s not specially wrapped or anything,” she says.  “It just came in the mail yesterday – and then I had this essay to write, and –”

Yui ... Got him a present?  That she ordered?  In the mail?  Daichi rubs the back of his neck and tries to remember _her_ last birthday – he got her some of her favorite candy from the local store, but that doesn’t mean she’s beholden to him or anything –

“Daichi, open it,” Suga says quietly.

Daichi does.  Inside the brown package is a clear plastic bag, and inside that is a navy blue tie with little embroidered volleyballs on it.

Suga, Asahi, and Kiyoko start laughing.  Daichi guesses it’s because his expression is something ridiculous, but he can’t bring himself to care.

“Yui, this is ...”  He stops.  Thinks.  Tries again.  “Yui, thank you, I ...”  That fails, too.  After two or three more unsuccessful attempts, Daichi stands up, steps forward, and wraps his friend in a hug.

“Daichi, you’re crushing me,” Yui says - but he can feel her smile against his shoulder.

He hugs her harder for a second, then pulls away.  “I’ll wear it every day,” he tells her profoundly, still holding onto her forearms.

“You only own two dress shirts,” Suga says.

Daichi ignores him.

* * *

“Are you sure this is okay?”

Suga presses Daichi up against the lockers – slips his hands under Daichi’s shirt – trails them slowly, delicately, like feathers or silk or sunlight, up Daichi’s chest –

“Are you _sure_ –”  One of Suga’s hands suddenly shifts direction and grabs Daichi’s ass – “that - um - this is _okay_?”

Suga takes another step closer, tilts his head down to kiss Daichi’s neck - he’s going to leave a mark, shit, the first-years are going to _see_ \- and Daichi should be concerned about this, should be stopping this, but instead he feels a pool of warmth build low in his stomach.  His head falls back – he sucks in a breath –

“Everyone’s gone home for the day already,” Suga murmurs, smooth as honey.

He kisses Daichi’s neck again – then pulls Daichi’s shirt aside, brushes his teeth over Daichi’s collarbone, _bites_ –

“Okay,” Daichi says, his voice hoarser than he’d like.  “Okay.”

Suga lifts his head up, smiling like a miracle – and Daichi has to reach for him, has to cup his face in his hands, has to kiss him – gently at first, then deeper, closer –

It’s a familiar dance, at this point.  They know each other’s moves, can perform without music.  One step leads to another easy as the earth revolving around the sun, easy as the tide flowing in and out, easy as gravity.  But even with that familiar rhythm, that memorized melody, the dance still feels new every time.  Daichi is still amazed by the way Suga moves, the way he tastes, the way he beams when he pulls back for a second, catching his breath.

Pulls back for a second, catching his breath and – checking his watch?  Has Suga always worn a watch?

Suga takes a step back.  He reaches up, smooths Daichi’s shirt down.  Runs a hand through Daichi’s hair.

“What – what are you –” Daichi asks.

Suga just smiles and holds out his hand.

“You know I don’t like surprises,” Daichi chides him.  He takes the hand anyway.

Suga leads him out of the locker room, back into the gym.  Daichi blinks for a second, eyes readjusting to the light, then sees –

The rest of the team did _not_ go home already.

The gym is lit half by the overhead lights, half by strings of paper lanterns hung from the balcony.  They shine like fireflies, in blue and purple and black and orange.  There’s a table in one corner, piled with plates of dessert and shiny bags that undoubtedly hold presents.  In another corner, Tsukishima and Hinata are arguing over a set of speakers.  A large banner is hanging above the far doorway, uneven black letters reading, “HAPPY BIRTHDAY DAD!”

“We were going to write _captain,_ but we ran out of room,” Asahi says apologetically, following Daichi’s gaze to the banner.

Daichi suddenly senses a menacing presence at his right.

“Guys.”  Suga’s arms are crossed, and the glare on his face is one of the most terrifying Daichi has ever seen.

Ennoshita scrambles to the front of the gym and raises his arms like an orchestra conductor.  “One, two, three!”

“Happy birthday, captain!  Surprise!” the team shouts in unison.

Daichi’s not crying.  He’s definitely not crying.  He’s – _shit_.  He swipes his hand over his eyes.

He blinks a few times determinedly, then looks around at his team.  They’re all grinning at him – all the third-years, all the second-years, all the first-years – even Tsukishima’s managing a small sincere smile.

Daichi looks at Suga helplessly, but that’s no better.  Suga is gazing at him as though he hung every star in the sky.

“Happy birthday, Daichi,” he says quietly.

* * *

“You know, you didn’t all have to stay this late,” Daichi says.  “It’s New Year’s Eve, you should be at home with your families.”

“Daichi, shut up,” Suga says mildly.

Desserts have been eaten, presents have been unwrapped, party games have been attempted and failed, and now everyone in the team is gathered in a circle, sitting on the gym floor – like an after-practice meeting, only organized just for him.  Daichi still can’t quite wrap his head around that.

“But you’ve done so much for me already!” Daichi protests.

“And now we’re going to do more,” Kiyoko says.  She turns to Suga.  “How did we say we’re going to do this?  Youngest to oldest?”

Suga nods.

“Youngest to oldest what?” Daichi asks.  Nobody answers.

Suga glances at him.  There’s a determined look in his eyes – the same look he gets when he’s about to step onto the court in the middle of a game.  And Daichi is bowled over by a sudden wave of affection, even before Suga starts to explain what’s going on:

“We’re all going to go around and say something we admire about you.  Because, Sawamura Daichi, you are the best captain our team could ask for, and we don’t tell you that enough.”

They haven’t started yet and Daichi already doesn’t think his heart can take this.  He reaches out blindly to his right, as he always does.  Suga grabs his hand.

“Kageyama,” Kiyoko prompts quietly.  “You start.”

“What?  Why do _I_ have to start?” Kageyama exclaims.

“Because you’re the youngest!” Hinata retorts.  “Stupid Kageyama.”

“Oh.”  Kageyama glares at Hinata for a second, but it’s hard for him to argue with the truth.  He looks pointedly at the gym floor, then says, “Sawamura-senpai, I admire how you don’t let people onto your team just because they’re good – they have to be able to ... to cooperate.”

And Daichi’s first thought isn’t happiness or confidence in himself – it’s pride.  Pride for this first-year and how far he’s come – from claiming he’d rather die than have to play with Hinata to acknowledging that teamwork is the most important part of volleyball.  Daichi knows that it’s not all his doing, knows that other people on the team have helped Kageyama just as much as he has – but this still feels so much like a victory.

Shit.  Daichi can’t cry again.  His reputation as a stoic captain is already in danger.  He takes a deep breath, tries to suck in his emotions the way he sucks in his stomach sometimes, when getting ready for a date with Suga – and nods to Kageyama.

“Thank you,” he says.  He hopes he sounds less choked up than he feels.

“Yamaguchi,” Suga says, after a moment.  “You’re next.”

Oh, God – there’s _more._  Somehow Daichi forgot that the whole _team_ is going to go.  And it proves to be the biggest test of his emotional strength that he’s ever faced.  He might be able to do it, if it was just one person – just Kageyama, or just Nishinoya, or just Ennoshita – but all of them together, complimenting him one after another, is just too much.  But too much in the best possible way – too much in the way that beating Datekou is too much, or the way that kissing Suga is too much.  Too much in a way that fills Daichi with pride like a quiet fire, burning ever-brighter in his chest.

_“I admire how you don’t give up on anyone.  How you make every person on the team feel important – even the pinch server.”_

_“I admire how you somehow always forgive these idiots for the stupid shit they do.”_

_“Tsukki!”_

_“What?  I sure as hell wouldn’t forgive them.”_

_“Hey, we’ve very forgivable!”_

_“Keep telling yourself that, shorty.”_

_“I admire how you’re not scared of anything!  Not other schools, or injuries, or super tall people, or getting lost, or –”_

_“Yachi, we got it.”_

_“Sorry!”_

_“I admire how you always buy us pork buns after practice.”_

_“Dumbass Hinata!  What the fuck kind of dumb compliment is that?”_

_“You admire him for that, too!”_

_“I admire – sorry, I know this is dumb, but – I really admire your strong receives.  You’re so steady and sure, and you face the hardest serves head-on.  There would be no defense without you.”_

_“Ennoshita, your receives are really good, too!”_

_“Tanaka, this isn’t about me.”_

_“Still.  They are.”_

_“Well, um - I learned from the best.”_

_“I admire how you compliment us – but only when you really mean it.  Sawamura-san, the moment I found out you called me the Guardian Deity of Karasuno was the greatest moment of my life.”_

_“Wait, Yuu, what about the first time Hinata called you senpai?”_

_“Okay, top three.  Top three!”_

_“I admire how you always tell us it’s okay when we make mistakes, especially in the middle of a hard game.”_

_“I admire how you never get pissed off when people from other teams insult us.  And you, um, stop me from getting into fights when I get pissed off.  You’re so cool, Sawamura!”_

_“I admire how you keep working on getting better, even though you’re already the captain and there’s nobody to yell at you if you slack off.”_

_“Excuse you, Kinoshita._ I _would yell at him.”_

_“Ah!  Sorry, Suga-san.”_

_“I admire how you put the team first.  You almost always help set up for or clean up from practice, and spend our lunch periods and days off planning, and talk to me on the phone until late at night going over notes and coming up with strategies.  Even when we both know you have a test the next day.”_

As Kiyoko finishes speaking, Daichi finds himself unable to hold his emotions in any more.  His vision is blurry, his cheeks are wet – it takes his last reserves of self-restraint to not wail, “Kiyoko-san!” aloud.  He’s squeezing Suga’s hand so tightly, he’s half-afraid that he’ll leave a bruise.

And then, it’s Asahi’s turn.

“Daichi,” Asahi begins.  He wipes his eyes, clears his throat, then starts again.  “I remember when I first met Daichi.  It was the first day of practice our first year, and I was so nervous.  I really wanted to make a good impression on the upperclassmen, and I didn’t want to miss anything important in the meetings or screw up any drills or – or anything.”

“Why is he telling us this?” Tsukishima stage-whispers to Yamaguchi.

Yamaguchi angrily shushes him.  Tsukishima just shakes his head.

“So at practice,” Asahi goes on, “I stayed with the team through everything, even though I really had to go to the bathroom.  Like, _really._  I managed it through warm-ups and all of our drills, but I couldn’t make it through the after-practice meeting.  I stood up, and Daichi – he’d been sitting next to me – stared at me, then said, ‘Azumane Asahi, go to the bathroom _right now._ ’  I hadn’t even realized he remembered my name!  He was terrifying.  I probably would’ve gone more, if I hadn’t already, well ...”

“Asahi-san, you’re such a nerd!” Nishinoya howls.

Asahi flushes strawberry-red, but it doesn’t discourage him – he starts in on a new story about the first time Daichi received one of his spikes.  The guy talks for a solid four or five minutes, giving a detailed history of Daichi’s and his entire friendship.  Daichi hadn’t remembered some of the stories Asahi tells, but as he hears them, he can picture everything – four anxious first-years turned worried second-years, with no coach and barely a team, but the determination to keep a legacy alive.

The way Asahi tells it, without Daichi, the club would’ve fizzled into nothingness a week into their second year.  The way Asahi tells it, Daichi is a strong, confident leader who faces every challenge, fights every struggle – who may get scared sometimes, but never fails to put on a brave smile for his friends.  And the way the rest of the team listens, it seems like they believe it, too.

Daichi is ... There’s no word for how he feels.  It’s some combination of pride and amazement and overwhelming certainty that he has the best team in the world.  He looks around and sees, with no small amount of shock, that he’s not the only one crying.  Tanaka and Noya are downright sobbing, Hinata’s eyes are red, Kiyoko’s smile is watery, and even Tsukishima has traces of wetness on his cheeks.  The only dry eyes in the gym belong to –

“Suga?”  Daichi nudges him.  “Why aren’t you –”

“I’ve heard him practice this five times in the past week,” Suga whispers back.  “The first draft was three times longer.  Now _shhh_!  The best part’s coming up.”

“So in – in conclusion,” Asahi’s saying, his voice thick with emotion, “I just want to say that ... that I’m so honored to call you my friend, Daichi.  You’re the strongest person I know.  You never give up on anything or anyone.  And I know that wherever you go after this year, whatever you do, you’ll give it your all, and –”

Daichi can’t listen to this anymore.  He gets up, crosses the circle, and hugs Asahi as tightly as he can.  It’s an awkward hug, a bit of a damp hug – because, well, both of them are still crying – and _definitely_ not a manly hug.  It’s the best hug Daichi has ever gotten in his life.

He pulls away, finally, after Asahi accidentally leaks snot into his uniform (and promptly apologizes no less than seven times.)  Daichi turns to face his team.

“Guys, I ...” he says.  He doesn’t have the words to explain how he feels.  If he wrote poetry for a hundred years, he wouldn’t be able to describe it.  But his team has given him so much – he owes it to them to try.

“Guys, I’m so honored.  So honored.  I might be a good captain, but it’s ... It’s because of all of you, working so hard and caring so much, that we’ve been able to get as far as we have.  I say this with absolutely no bias – you’re the best team in the world.”

“See?” Asahi croaks, still sniffling.  “Even now, he’s still modest.”

And then, the shouting starts.  Daichi isn’t sure who starts it or how – only that, somehow, before he quite realizes what’s happening, the entire team is chanting.

“DAD!  DAD!  DAD!  DAD!  DAD!”

Daichi knows that Hinata accidentally called him ‘Dad’ once, and Suga often teases him about parenting the first-years, but this is just ridiculous.

“I’m not your dad, I’m your captain!” Daichi protests.

The cheering only increases in volume.  They’re probably disturbing anyone who’s still at the school – but then, it’s New Year’s Eve.  Nobody is still at the school besides Daichi’s insane, ridiculous, wonderful team.

“Okay, fine,” he says at last, raising his hands in surrender.  “I’m proud to be your dad.”

Everyone shouts in victory, as loudly as though they just won a set against Aoba Johsai.

“Wait, Suga.”  And all eyes are suddenly on Kiyoko.  “You never said yours.”

“My what?” Suga asks.

“What you most admire about our captain,” she replies, glancing at him with an expression Daichi doesn’t catch.

“Oh, that.”  Suga grins – wicked and brilliant.  “I thought it was obvious – his thighs.”

Daichi is, quite possibly, about to explode.

His team’s laughter echoes up into the rafters of the gym – rises and lingers, beautiful and permanent.

* * *

“So, what did you think?”

Daichi looks at Suga, confused.  They’re sitting on Daichi’s bed, leaning their backs against the wall.  Daichi’s laptop sits on the side of the bed – they were planning on watching a movie, but haven’t worked up the motivation to start it yet.  Suga’s head is pillowed on Daichi’s shoulder, and he feels warm and full – not only because of the enormous dinner his mother prepared, but more so because of the absolute wonder that hasn’t left him since the party.

“What did I think of what?” Daichi asks.  His right hand starts to absent-mindedly trace circles on Suga’s thigh.

Suga twists to gaze up at him.  “The party.  The presents.  The everyone complimenting you.  I know you don’t like surprises, or attention, or anything ...”  He fidgets with the hem of his shirt.

Daichi’s had a lot of surprises today, but this is perhaps the biggest.  

“Suga, are you serious?”

“Um, yes?”

Daichi grins down at his boyfriend, wondering at how someone so intelligent can sometimes be so, so oblivious.  “Today, I got complimented more in an hour than I’ve been complimented in my entire life,” he says.  “Of course I liked it.  I loved it.  It’s probably selfish of me to say this, but for a few minutes there, I think I was the happiest I’ve ever been.  I can’t believe you organized something like that for me.”

“Well, it was Asahi’s idea, actually,” Suga replies – but he’s smiling, and his cheeks are going Daichi’s favorite shade of pink, and Daichi loves him so much, he thinks his heart might burst.

“Yeah, okay, but you did most of the work,” Daichi argues.

“It was a team effort!  Me, and Kiyoko, and Asahi –”

“Come on, Suga.”  Daichi pokes his boyfriend in the hip, right at the spot where he knows Suga’s ticklish.  “Tell me the truth.”

But then – somehow, in the space between two heartbeats – Suga moves so that he’s straddling Daichi, hips to hips.  Daichi’s breathing speeds up – embarrassing, really, considering they’ve been dating for two years.

“Sawamura Daichi,” he says.  “I didn’t say this earlier, because Asahi’s speech was so much and I didn’t want to break the first-years, but – I just want you to know how much I admire you.  Every part of you.  Not just your thighs, or you butt – ” To emphasize that point, he reaches around and pinches the appendage in question – “but your determination, your dedication.  Everything you do for the team – you play it off like it’s nothing, but it isn’t.  I’ve never met another captain who spends half as much time thinking about their teams, or working on strategies and practice schedules for their teams, or just _babysitting_ their teams as you do.  It’s ... It’s just really incredible.  Karasuno would be nowhere without you.  I’d be nowhere without you.”

Daichi had thought, as he walked home still reeling over everything his teammates had said, that he’d already cried more than enough for one day.  Apparently, he was wrong.

“Koushi,” he says, rubbing his eyes furiously, “you know that I love you, right?”

Suga grins – grins like sunlight and invincibility.  “I know.”

“Okay,” Daichi replies helplessly.  “That’s ... That’s good.”

“It is,” Suga agrees.  He leans in and presses a quick kiss to Daichi’s lips, then takes Daichi’s face with his hands.  “But I need you to know something, too.  I need you to know how important you are – to me, and to the team.  Sometimes you work so hard, you forget why – and I don’t want you to forget why.  Don’t forget everything everyone said today.”

Daichi looks at his boyfriend – at the face he’s memorized over months and months, traced with his fingers and his lips and his heart – and he remembers how he felt earlier, in the gym – as though he could take on the world, armed only with the strength of his team’s faith in him.

“I’m not going to forget,” he says softly.  “I don’t think I can ever forget again.”

* * *

 " _We have a really great team, don’t we?”_

_“Yeah, we do.  But you know what else we have?”_

_“What?”_

_“A really great captain.”_

_“Haven’t you flattered me enough for today?”_

_“I don’t think so, considering – look at that!  It’s not the same day anymore.  Not the same year, even.”_

_“What!  Did we just – did we miss midnight?  We didn’t watch the sunrise, I don’t know what my parents are doing, I don’t – hey.”_

_“Happy New Year, Daichi.”_

_“... Happy New Year, Suga.”_


End file.
